


Live to Die

by Xerox



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 14:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13592097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xerox/pseuds/Xerox
Summary: He didn’t actually know how he came to be in this situation. Just that he now found himself laying on the ground, surrounded by many other beings. And it was loud.





	Live to Die

**Author's Note:**

> I have read one too many Obi-wan goes back in the past to fix things fics.
> 
> So this bit me weeks and weeks ago, and I steadily worked on it. And then I decided I'd work on it going another way.
> 
> Now as I've decided it's finished and I'm reading it through once more, that just may change... again. So this fic is currently finished in so much as it currently has two middles that meet the same ending, with perhaps a new ending to be worked on.
> 
> This won't be particularily long, probably 3-4 chapters depending on where if I decide to break the third part up.

He didn’t actually know how he came to be in this situation. Just that he now found himself laying on the ground, surrounded by many other beings. And it was loud. 

It took him much too long to realize that he wasn’t surrounded by giants. In fact, he was much smaller than he should be. When he glanced at his soft, almost chubby hands, and short legs he couldn’t make sense of it. They were not his hands and legs, and his hair was longer than he kept it, oily and matted in places. 

But he could still feel the force, wrapping gently around him thinly. It wasn’t as it should be, it felt like it did when he’d have a fever as a child. Remembering his long past fears of the fever burning the force out of him. They never had, and he had eventually released the childish fear. It was building up again, stronger than he’d ever remembered feeling. Perhaps as strong as he’d felt it back in those younger days. 

He certainly wished for a creche master to kneel down next to him and remind him that no fevers could chase away the force. 

But as much as his smaller body reminded him of that of a child, he was not a child. He had no need for the creche or it’s masters. There was no more creche or masters. And the thought actually brought tears to his eyes. He felt them well up and the ache in his chest and throat. Recognized it, but was only able to hold in the sob and not the tears. 

By the time he’d gotten control of himself the beings around him were moving, with little thought or care that he was in the way. He was kicked and stepped on until the soft voice of a woman spoke, “come little One, you do not want to make them find you.” And a gentle hand on his arm was pulling him up, stayed in his shoulder as they walked with the mass exodus. 

Who was them? He thought as he looked up at the human woman, her hair dark and face tired. But she smiled kindly at him and squeezed his shoulder, then shifted something on her hip. 

He froze when he saw the dirty blonde hair and the recognizable, yet much younger, face of the toddler latched to her side. And, who he now assumed as Shmi, turned her gentle leading into a more forceful thing. Insuring that he kept walking and brought no attention to themselves. 

He was even more confused then he had been, and that was saying something. Because shrinking was more understandable then a toddler Anakin. And it was most definitely Anakin, he reached out and felt the familiar presence of the man he’d mentored and fought alongside, the one he’d left. 

He allowed himself to be lead in a dull haze out into sunlight that made him squint as they were lined up. He looked up at the towering man next to him, his head down and at peace with what was happening as other beings, in much cleaner clothing and better health walked down the long line. 

A glance at Shmi showed the same, though she’d placed the toddler down where he stood, clutching her leg. “What?” He started to ask, shocked to hear his voice so high pitched. 

That was all it took and he felt a swipe on his face, a sharp cutting pain that sent him to his knees. Then he made a mistake he knew he would curse for years to come, he looked defiantly up at who had struck him. Face turned to a glare and hands coming up to strike back, to stop the attack upon his body. 

He had just enough warning from the force to bring his hands up to cover his face, then he felt the cut of the whip on forearms too small to be his own. Over and over again until they stopped and a shadow was blocking out the sun. 

“Please, he’s only a child! He doesn’t know any better!” And that was Shmi, using her own body to block the strikes from him. And his first instinct was so strong, to denounce being a child and step in front of this woman. 

But as he fell down, his whole body trembling with waves of pain and weaker than he’d ever known it to be. He realized, perhaps he was nothing more than a child. He still tried to push himself back up, started to yell apologies in that high pitch voice that was decidedly childish.

This was madness, this was all madness that he must have succumbed to on Tatooine. 

Shmi didn’t even have a real chance to regret her attempt to save him when her neck was snapped. Her body drug away as he stopped his own pleading and sat down, feeling little Anakin’s heat at his back. Tiny fists holding onto his shirt. “Mama?” And it was soft and confused and understanding even less then Obi-Wan understood himself. 

Not another word was spared for them, and he very quietly and very carefully hushed Anakin. Let the toddler grip his hand and clutch to him. Kept a tight hold of the child as more people started walking up and down their line. As beings pulled other beings from the line until there was a mere handful of them left. 

He made sure to not speak and not look anyone in the eyes, made sure to keep a hold of Anakin as every once in awhile his face was grabbed and twisted this way or that, as his bloody arms were examined. As the same was done to Anakin. 

Tried to quiet the child as a woman tried to pull Anakin away only for the small child to begin screaming and clutching to him with a hold that was not from his bodily strength alone. Pulled him tighter as the woman walked away with a shake of her head. 

They were both swaying tiredly when a man stopped in front of them, and Anakin tightened his grip again. The shaky breath that meant sobs were about to start. “Is this a joke?” The man asked with a sneer, his hand motioning at them in disgust. “Do you actually believe to be able to sell children this young with no mother?”

“The mother made a nuisance of herself,” the slave dealer gurgled with a shrug. “They’re small and cheap to feed, if I can’t sell em they’re equally as easy to bury.”

The man grunted, looking at them critically. “Siblings?”

“Close enough, I suppose.” He shrugged. “You looking to buy them, or just comment on my business practices?”

“The older ones damaged and the babe damn near useless,” the man pointed out. 

“Or a future investment. Give him to you on the cheap, young enough you train him up how you want.” 

“Then I’ll need another to care for it,” the man frowned. “I doubt it’s been house trained.”

“I can take care of him, sir.” Obi-Wan spoke up softly, careful not to look in the mans face, to show his defiance or distaste at what was happening but he knew with a certainty that if they were not bought today, there wouldn’t be a tomorrow. “And I can be useful.” He added quickly, flinching as the slaver grabbed his hair and jerked him for dare speaking. 

“Well then, how much for the pair?” The man asked as Obi-wan was thrown into the dirt, Anakin whimpering as they hit the ground hard. 

“50,” The slaver gurgled disinterestedly. 

“Absurd, together they don’t add up to anywhere near a full grown slave.” The man argued. “And he’s obviously defiant,”he snorted. “Well trained you claimed your slaves to be.”

“You ever see such a small one so quiet? They’re well trained.” The slaver argued, once again grabbing Obi-Wan by the hair and tugging him up until he was on his toes, showing off the still oozing wound on his face.. “Doubt he’ll be misbehaving anytime soon either.”

“Hmph, I saw the display as you walked them out. Killed his mother and yet he still speaks? 10 for the pair, we both know come the morning the Terak’s will be picking their bones.”

“10 is not even worth the effort of obtaining them!” The slaver spit, letting go of Obi-Wan to turn his disgust to the man. 

“And you’ll get nothing more,” the man shrugged. “Sell them, don’t. I care not and don’t care to haggle. Jimbarla has a new batch coming in tomorrow, perhaps he’ll have what I’m looking for.”

“And what do you want with them?” The slaver asked, turning to spit a large wad of yellowish fluid. 

“As you said, investment.”

“10 it is,” the slaver said eventually and Obi-Wan kept silent as the transaction was made. Took a moment to wonder if he was implanted with a chip like Anakin seemed to be because a single transponder was handed over. 

Then he followed without being asked, Anakin now holding his hand instead of clutching him like a baby Kampa would it’s mother. 

The walk to the man’s ship was a long one and eventually Obi-Wan had to pick up Anakin, regardless that he was stumbling in his own weariness. And the force was ever as elusive and thin as it had been since he first awoke in this place. He could only eek tiny tendrils of strength from it. 

“Wash him and yourself, I do not want to smell that pit on either of you.” The man ordered as soon as they stepped on the ship, waving at the small fresher stuck in an almost awkward corner.

He nodded silently and closed the door behind him, marveling that even a small fresher seemed reasonably spacious as a supposed child. “Come on Anakin,” he said softly gently shaking the child awake. “We must get clean.” He said as blue eyes blinked at him. 

“Mama?” He asked, and Obi-wan felt his guilt like a stab of pain across his chest. 

“No, Obi-Wan.” He explained softly, with no idea or ability to explain to a toddler that their mother was dead. His voice shook as he pointed at himself and repeated his name. 

“Obi,” the boy repeated softly, a small smile on his face. 

“Yes, Obi.” He smiled back and reached for the boys tunic. It was not clean, but not as filthy as his own clothing seemed to be. Shmi had done her best to care for her child. A child that was more obedient then he had ever known him to be. 

Did as he was told and made no arguments to stepping into the sonics even though they obviously terrified him. 

Obi-Wan stripped his own self slowly and carefully, mindful of the still oozing wounds on his arms and stepped on his toes to place them in the cleaner. Frowned as he looked around for a step stool of some sort. Hopefully cleaning their clothes was the right decision, he did not think it would cause any hindrance to the man. It would take longer to take off then the clothes to be cleaned. 

If he didn’t have a pilot and Obi-Wan found himself chewing on his lip. A nervous habit that had taken him ages to grow out of. He was distressed to find it back. 

The sink in front of the mirror had real water and he smiled at Anakin who was silently sitting on the floor and playing with his feet. “Come here,” he said and Anakin smiled as he climbed up slowly after him. “Sonics never get everywhere,” he explained softly and absently as he washed Anakin’s feet and hands. The child giggling quietly at the sensation only to frown when Obi-Wan used some water to try and calm the child’s hair somewhat.

“Obi?” He asked touching his hair and then touching Obi-Wan’s. 

“Yes,” he turned to look in the mirror. Something that he’d managed not to do until then. Fear of what he would see strong enough to ensure it. But he was a Jedi Master and would not let fear guide his hand. So he looked and froze. His hand absently going up to his hair but focused more on his face. 

That was his face, from decades ago. Much skinnier and paler than it had actually been at that age. But that was his face from when he was 6 or 7 standard years. He almost forgot to breathe but Anakin was repeating his name, becoming more anxious as he continued. 

This was not the time for wondering what was going on. 

“Yes, Anakin. My hair is quite a mess.” And the wound on his face was likely to scar, he thought as he bent his head under the faucet and began trying desperately to make it so he did not look like a mangy dog. He looked like a wildling to be honest.

“Ani,” Anakin said after a moment, pointing at himself. “I Ani, you Obi.” He smiled in accomplishment. “Mama?”

“No, she is not here. I’m sorry.” He said softly, easing Anakin back to the floor.

“Back?”

“No,” and he was ashamed he couldn’t look at the child and instead focused on cleaning up any mess they had made. “She can’t come back.” And when he did look at the child, his bottom lip was shaking and it sounded like the sobs were about to start. 

“You can’t understand this yet,” he explained as he climbed down from the sink and let Anakin latch onto him. “But she has become one with the force, you can’t join her today... but in time you will.”


End file.
